


Little Combiner

by GreyLiliy



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: To escape the dark, two little robots must work together.
Kudos: 2





	Little Combiner

**Author's Note:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on November 28, 2013 with no title. Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on March 15, 2020. Original notes have been kept.]
> 
> I combined that mass of sad baby robots posts into a single vignette. Didn’t edit anything, so as is. But all in one place, now. :D

Baby Robots fighting.

The clink and clang of metal as they tussle with tiny fists and angry chirps. Little cracked optics, and grunts from the tumbling little forms. Dents, scrapes and angry flashes of teeth.

And the little exhausted forms, after all their miniature rage, sit venting heavily as they lean against each other, too tired to even push their opponent over.

Baby Robots whimpering as they try and see through cracked visors and lenses, they’re little hands making it worse as they paw at the spider-web fractures.

One smears it with a bit of energon from the cracked plating after they hit their head, and it gets under the glass.

Little audio shattering screams as they fumble to wipe it away, only making it worse.

Baby Robots injured, exhausted, alone and in pain.

They fought because they were lost. Too young to reason, they threw blame the way children do. With energon leaking, and armor plates bent and uncomfortable, they weep.

One stands a moment later, and tugs on a broken helm piece. They walk down the corridor, dragging little puddles of energon behind them.

The other continues crying, but holds the leader’s hand.

The injured and tired Baby Robots trek down the hallway, sometimes tripping and smearing the energon across the steel floors. They stumble against each other. Irritated and hungry, they shove at one another as they travel down the hallway.

At the end, they see light. An opening, and the sound of gears and noise. Little smiles wake on their faces and cracked teeth, and they move faster.

Their vision is blurred, but they make their way to the half-open door. They push it open. Arms spread and ready to be picked up.

And see a small, shaky catwalk. Hanging high over an oil pit. A single light hangs above, swinging. Everything else is dark.

The catwalk grating creaks beneath the Baby Robots, their little weight enough to shift it.

Slick with their life-blood, one trips and crashes into the other. They crash together against the handlebar railing, in a heap of scared whimpers and panicked venting.

Metal shrieks, snaps. Breaks.

Tiny Babes lose their balance, and fall over the edge.

They fall shrieking, and hit the oil pit with two thick plops.

The little metal bodies sink.

Baby Robots splashing their limbs in the slick, black substance. They thrash about and scream, oil pouring into their throats and coating the surface.

Little Baby Robots slowing down, reaching through the liquid for something solid.

Their hands meet.

They hold tight to each other as they hit the bottom of the pool. Warning lights they’ve never seen flashing.

Energon seeping through their cracks and broken plating.

Bubbles break the oil surface.

Two sparks.

Two tiny new born little lives, barely a year old beat and thump inside their protected casing. Their hands hold tight to each other.

Through the oil and the black, they can feel each other. Hand to hand, sliding against each other. Spark to spark.

There’s a light.

Instinct, and survival.

Tiny gears and cogs whirl. Pumps start. Bodies contort and twist.

Their hands hold tight to each other.

Baby Robots transform.

The surface of the oil is still.

The swinging lantern above, sways back and forth. The rainbow sheen across the surface, lighting and fading with its sway.

A form bursts through the film, thrusters red hot and lighting it all on fire.

Baby Robots combined.

Two sparks, finding one another. Desperate and alone. They activate protocols that neither of them knew. They transformed, refusing to let each other go, so they became one.

A jet.

Guided by instinct they tear through the room, sensors mad with warning lights and torn panels forcing themselves into a new form.

The new Combiner flies.

Flying high and fast, the jet bursts through a service corridor and there! The main hallway of the ship.

They know where they are.

Two tiny sparks leap for joy, and the jet streams past confused onlookers headed for safety.

Though exhaustion hits when they least expect it. Their engines struggle, and they feel their insides shaking.

They can make it.

_They can make it._

They crash through the first open door, falling apart from each other as they tumble and roll to the ground. They look across the way at each other and smile.

They can hear the voices.

They reach across and hold hands, tiny broken fingers seen through cracked optics. Their sparks pulse.

They’re safe.

Voices crying in urgency.

They’re safe.

Strong hands lifting them, careful not to break their connection.

They’re safe.

They relax and let the grown ups help. They feel the energon flow into their system through little tubes and sigh in relief.

They’re home.


End file.
